


Hush

by verucasalt123



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Slash, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noticing stuff is Stiles’ thing. It’s what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my “whoever I say is alive is _alive_ , because I said so” fics.

When you’re part of a pack (even a really weird one like theirs), Stiles was learning, someone is always in your space.

Fingers in your hair.

Legs resting in your lap.

Head leaned on your shoulder.

Basically, there were people all hugged up on everyone else all the time, and it wasn’t a sex thing (well, _mostly_ not a sex thing). Werewolves craved touch, that seemed to be pretty natural. The fact that they weren’t all werewolves didn’t seem to make a difference.

The whole thing was second nature for Scott and Stiles. Stilinskis were huggers, Scott had accepted that years ago, and since he’d been bitten, Scott was pretty damn handsy himself, more than before anyway. 

Add them in with the rest of the people in their age bracket and there were really endless combinations of Erica on Boyd’s lap and Lydia braiding Allison’s hair while Jackson watches a movie lying half-across whoever was in the most comfortable spot. Sometimes it was tough to tell where one person started and the next one ended. But no one ever complained.

Peter did his best to be unobtrusive, you wouldn’t find him piled up on a heap of blankets doing a Firefly marathon, but Stiles saw Derek. Always with at least a passing touch, a hand around a bicep or forearm putting groceries away, a shoulder bump by the front door.

With so many people around to love on all the time, it took Stiles a minute to fully realize that Isaac made an effort to avoid…well, _all of that_. There were two random wooden stools in the loft and sometimes he’d sit on one like he was practicing his posture, like Stiles could stop and leave a book on top of his head and it wouldn’t move because Isaac was still and quiet and he was not touching anyone and no one was touching him.

And it’s not like anyone was going to give Isaac a hard time about wanting to guard his personal space or anything. Even when he was being ornery and snarky he was too freaking adorable with his ridiculous curls and his ridiculous scarf and his ridiculous eyelashes for any of them to be tempted to upset him like that just to get him to join in. 

Well, Stiles just guessed the adorable/ridiculous thing affected the whole pack of them, maybe, it couldn’t just be him, right?

Isaac was getting better, too, not flinching away when someone accidentally brushed up against him or ruffled his hair just because they were used to doing it to everyone else. He didn’t sit too close and he never initiated any physical contact, and no one really noticed anything because they were all wrapped up in each other and it was normal for Isaac to maintain a respectable distance.

Derek could usually stand behind him for a few seconds, palm flat against the back of Isaac’s neck, just holding on enough to satisfy their connection. But Derek didn’t see what Stiles did.

Stiles…well, he noticed. It was his thing, really, _noticing stuff_ , a keen eye for observation, that’s what he contributed to their pack (in his mind, the most important thing he contributed). So when Isaac started leaning in just a little to Derek’s reassuring touch, Stiles paid closer attention. 

He wasn’t sure how he was the only one who could see it. The longing in his expression when Isaac thought no one was looking. Eyes averted a second too late. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure why he couldn’t keep himself from getting a closer look – okay, Stiles could never keep himself from getting a closer look at anything, fine. But on a movie night when Peter was who knows where and the whole pack was tucked in with a zombie apocalypse movie, even Derek squeezed onto the sofa with Jackson curled up against his leg, Stiles made the move.

Came back empty-handed from the kitchen. Bypassed the couch from behind and headed over toward where Isaac was sitting on the fourth step from the bottom of the spiral staircase, long legs in front of him, feet barely touching the floor. Isaac saw Stiles coming, but he didn’t say anything. Just did that thing where he turned himself into a statue. Stiles went slow, too, really slow, the last thing he wanted was to startle Isaac. But he was sure – as sure as he could ever be about any of the ideas that hatched in his brain – that this was going to be okay. He reached out and wrapped slim fingers around Isaac’s wrist, loose, no pressure. Got another close look at those blue eyes and he _knew_. All of this affection, right there in front of him, totally safe and available pretty much constantly – Isaac looked like he could cry for how bad he wanted it but he was stopped by his habit, his past, his reflexes. 

Stiles wasn’t going to let it go, either. Still slowly, telegraphing every move so Isaac had an out, he stood in front of the steps and leaned in closer. Took his fingers from Isaac’s wrist and so so gently laid his palm against Isaac’s warm cheek and Isaac looked like he was going to melt off the steps for a second but he pushed back against Stiles’ touch like it was the softest blanket he’d ever felt and the sound Isaac made, so quiet but so beautiful that Stiles wished for his phone so he could record it and listen to it forever.

It wouldn’t be the last time they’d sit on those steps together, but that was all right, because the first time gave them both something they needed more than they ever knew.


End file.
